


CARNAGE

by breakbeat



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Apocalypse, Fights, Fist Fights, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakbeat/pseuds/breakbeat
Summary: A man succumbs to the apocalypse, the storming of the unimaginable, only to find something even more mysterious and unnatural. Mega Absol TF oneshot.





	CARNAGE

**Author's Note:**

> What happens when their world is invaded?

     _RAHHHHHHHHH..._

    This isn't going to be easy. Two of these things.

    None of us know where they came from. But hell broke loose when they came.

    Which leads me to here: my death — if I'm careless. A torched landscape, sun rising as I scouted ahead of the group. Landed here.

    They surround. Front and back.

    The first charges.

    Sidestep. He misses; I jab.

    Swinging the crowbar with a turnaround, a _clank_ against the other thing, barring its teeth and running at me.

    Raising up the crowbar, turning around to pummel the first, I knock the thing to the ground.

    I catch a breath to remain calm. I turn around.

    A sudden lurch. The other thing already jumped, its nails ready to dig.

    Blocking, I'm pushed to the ground. It's clawing at me.

    Throwing it off to my side, I feel it scratch my arm.

    Pain.

    Venom.

    The claw.

    ...

    Virus.

    ...

    ...

    It's over.

    ...

    ...

    No.

    I'm not fucking dying like this.

    The thing looms over, ready to pounce. I grip the crowbar. And rise up to strike.

    _Clank._

    The thing is lifted into the air and collapses down. Face torn cleanly off, revealing a multitude of guts and blood.

    Turning around, I see the other thing standing up and rushing. I lift the crowbar. And smash down.

    _Clank._

Collapse.

    The thing wriggles on the ground. Its face is caved in. Moving closer, I raise the crowbar.

    And swing again.

    And again.

    And again.

    The thing is a bloody fucking mess; unintelligible.

    I did it. I got the two.

    At the cost of my arm. Staring at the wound, I fall, suddenly paralyzed.

    This is how it ends. Alone.

    The virus will kill me if I close my eyes.

    But it's easy to close them.

    So easy. Everything fades, blurs, numbs.

    So easy. I can't move my mouth, let alone the arm.

    So easy. I'm going to die here.

    So easy. Alone.

    so easy i can quickly end the pain

    ...

    Soon enough, the eyes begin closing on their own. Blood loss, probably the virus too.

    Soon enough, I'll be one of them.

    ...

    Just before the eyes clamp shut, I struggle to keep them open.

    I see my hands shifting.

    White hairs. _Sprouting._ Consuming hand.

    Finger. Claw. Blue. Blue claw.

    The virus isn't supposed to go like this.

    Hallucinations? Life flashing before my eyes? Drugs? Going insane?

    Hallucination continues.

    Other fingers become claws. Feels... strangely flexible. Like I can move.

    Hairs continue. Covering entire hand now. Hear cracking. I register my hand bending, shaping around claws.

    Pain: too much to not be real. _What's fucking happening?_

Forearm covered by fur now. Widening to compensate for hand now. Blue spike ruptured from an elbow. Ruined jacket. Fur explodes out of the hole alongside spike.

    Other hand changing now. Same shit. _Crack._ Agh, fuck...

    _Rip._ At least the pain's quicker. Already ripped another hole into the jacket.

    Feet begin to go numb, a new numb, as the toes rip through shoes, new blue claws showing. And the same white fur.

    Calves stretch against pants, thickening and rounding outwards. Another set of spikes sprout and shred through the pants, as more fur crawls up the legs.

    _RAHHHHHHHHH..._

    Can hear them. Somehow easily looking around, I see another horde.

_RAHHHHHHHHH..._

    Fuck. Can't let them get to the groups. Arceus willed it; I'll use these claw-feet to run and tell the others.

    Getting up proves a challenge. Starting to run.

    _Crack_. New tailbone emerges. Hard faceplant. Shit...

    Spike emerges. Growing longer. Fangs out. A new, blue tail with three arches.

    Fur reaches up to my waist. Slims down. Thighs widen out to cover broken pelvis.

    Broken. Like me at this point. I'm fucking dead.

    Looking back at the horde. Feel pressure on my back. Fur continues upwards.

    _Rip._ Suddenly back feels free from the shirt.

    I look.

    Wings.

    I have furred _wings._

    Four feet; arched tail; wings.

    I'm turning into a Mega Absol somehow.

    Fur takes over shoulders. They snap and crack, despite pleas. Arms slim.

    Front of shirt rips. Unneeded fur pours out from the ripped hole.

    Fur crawls up my neck, slims down. Breathing...

    Few _cracks_ from the ribcage. Gasping for air, suddenly able to breathe. Everything is much clearer now. Can smell the horde.

    That means my nose changed.

    It's the steel-blue again. Points out like a muzzle. I feel things in my mouth. Spitting them out reveals bloody teeth. Newer, sharper teeth.

    Hair falls down in front of my face. Turns white immediately. Covers my eye.

    A new horn pokes out. Migraine. Pain. By the time I stop clenching the horn is complete and curved. Another horn sprouts, smaller yet still curved.

    This means it's done. I'm now an Absol.

    What the _hell._

_RAHHHHHHHHH..._

    Returning attention back to the horde, I see them approach. They aren't too far away now.

    I don't know what to do. Can't fight like this, never was a Trainer. Maybe I can still warn the group.

    I run.

    Back feels hotter with the sun beating down on new fur, but I continue.

    I must.

    Need to warn friends about the horde.

    I will bring news. It's not good. It's never good nowadays.

    Destruction. Despair. Death.

    I will be an Omen-bringer.

    I will be an Angel of Death.

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at writing a story with as few words as possible, ended up leaving quite a few things up to interpretation.


End file.
